


This Body's Not Good Enough for Either of Us

by sunnymatsu



Category: This Body's Not Big Enough for Both of Us - Edgar Cantero
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Swearing, thats kinda spoilers but oops, this is just them having a heart attack and being uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnymatsu/pseuds/sunnymatsu
Summary: It usually feels like its Adrian VS. Zooey, but sometimes it feels a little more like Adrian & Zooey VS. Their Own Physical Form.--This is after-ending so there's very minor spoilers.I have dumbass disease so its incredibly likely there's errors in here that I'm just too lazy to figure out and fix, so sorry about that, lol. Basically, this is a mess and i just wanted to write them.





	This Body's Not Good Enough for Either of Us

 

Everything is quiet. There's nothing wrong. All is fine.

 

And yet, Kimrean can feel their heart pounding at record rates.

Beat. Beat. Be-beat. Beat. Be-beat. Beat.

There's no rhythm, no pattern. Just the echoing in their ears, the pulsating of their vision. Adrian, remembering to breathe and doing so with large, heaving gasps, forces a hand to their heart. Zooey reminds him that it's _her_ heart. Adrian barely notices.

"Why on earth are w-" The last of his sentence is cut off with a choking yelp, and for a moment he doesn't know who (or what) caused it. He tries to figure out what could have happened to himself--

_Not YOURself, dumbass, OURSELF!_

Snapping back to reality, Adrian can feel their senses all too sharply despite how quickly they were going numb. Though their vision became hazy, blotted out and distorted, he could almost perfectly see the people around them gawking and stepping backwards in confusion/disgust/horror?/anger/whatever-the-hell emotion they're feeling. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter!

 

**KIMREAN:** _[gets bumped into, stumbles, falls backwards onto their ass.]_

**PASSERBY:** _[tries and fails to avoid stepping on them.]_

**ZOOEY:** This is kinda fun.

 

Adrian tries to orient their body, grasping onto the concrete wall of a building and pulling their body upwards- _Oh God, no, that's worse._ They flop down to the ground, Adrian calculating to make sure they don't crack their skull on the sidewalk by accident.

Their body debates passing out, but seems to decide against it for now.

Adrian shuts their eyes and groans. "I don't know what to be more afraid of- people not calling an ambulance, or what'll happen if they do."

"Uhhh, they'll fix this? Do some doctor-y shit? Maybe give us some drugs--OOH, HEY, SOMEONE SHOULD CALL 911--"

Adrian pointedly shuts their mouth in aggravation before Zooey can begin the misguided request out loud.

"No, you dumbass bitch, they'll take one look at our records and find out we just skipped town after breaking out of the fucking loony bin."

"Ohhh."

"Now why the fuck are we like this in the first place?" Adrian puts a hand on their forehead, as if a mere touch could placate the headache pounding on the walls and shouting _Hey, you feel like shit right now!_

And they did feel like shit! The pounding of their head could only be compared to their still-racing heart rate, the fact they couldn't tell if their eyes were open or not was definitely not ideal, and it's impossible to tell for sure without a thermometer but Adrian's pretty sure they've well surpassed 100 degrees by now. His hand trails down their face, from the forehead to the mismatched eyes to the nose to the mouth, wide in a grin.

 

"Why the fuck are we smiling?"

"'Cuz this is fun as shit!"

"Tell me where the hell you find the humor in nausea, headaches, lightheadedness, anxiety, sweating--"

He pauses, recounting the symptoms in his head.

_Drug withdrawal._

"Oh, you fucking shithead."

"Hey, y'know what'd fix this?"

"Don't say more drugs--"

"More fuckin' drugs, baby!"

 

Adrian throws their hands up over their mouth in a desperate attempt to cover up Zooey's complete lack of recognition for appropriate vs inappropriate things to say out loud.

 

"Okay, we need to fucking focus."

"On how weird it is that being off drugs for a bit kinda feels like you're high? I mean, not really, 'cause this sucks and being high is awesome, but it still kinda--"

"Okay, _I_ need to focus enough for the both of us."

 

Adrian tries once again to pull their body upwards, finding it a little easier this time. About as easy as an intense hit of nausea, dizziness, and headache can be, anyway. Willing their vision to clear, he tries to survey his surroundings, which is difficult when one of your eyes notices you're low down on the sidewalk and decides it's a good idea to try to catch a glimpse under someone's skirt. Frustrated, Adrian turns their head away, and continues in his long quest to stand up, finally forcing that dumb grin off their face in the meantime. To his surprise, both of their legs comply, and they rise to their feet.

 

"Holy shit, I can move that leg again?"

"No, dumbass, I'm helping!"

"You of all people CANNOT call me a dumbass."

"Well you're being dumb, and you're definitely an ass, so..."

 

Placing a hand on the window of the building adjacent to them to stabilize themselves, they do their best to ignore the baffled stares that can be seen through it. Either that, or they don't take any notice in the first place. They begin to move forwards, wobbly but determined. A little too determined, for someone that looked like they were in the path of a truck and still weren't sure if they it hit them or not.

This is short-lived, as one of their legs makes an abrupt stop and stays in place, nearly making them topple over when they take their next step.

 

"Hold on. We are NOT getting more drugs."

"Oh, come ON! You don't KNOW that's what I was gonna do!"

"Do you seriously think you're that hard to figure out?"

They lean on a wall and place a hand over their mouth, bracing for the incoming argument/any nausea spikes that come with it.

"Seriously, Ade, it's what our body wants! Who are we to deny it that?"

"I hate what you just said and I hate you."

"You can't pretend you aren't cravin' it too!"

"I'M not 'cravin'' it, our body developed a dependance on substances YOU insisted on partaking in, and as a result of continued exposure to those our homeostasis has been affected and--"

"Blah blah blah blah blah. Body wants drugs, we want drugs. Off we go!"

"Oh hell no we don't."

 

Passerby on the street raise their eyebrows as the weird, twitchy homeless person seems to grab their own leg and hold it in place with a grimace, and the passerby, not entirely incorrectly, assume that the cause is drug-related.

 

"Incidentally, there is one drug I really wouldn't mind having right about now," Adrian laments as he curses himself for not keeping more of those syringes on hand.

"Oh, that's cold."

"Akin to the turkey we quit, I suppose."

"What?"

"Shouldn't have expected you to understand humor that requires any amount of thought. It's the term 'cold turkey'?"

"No, I got it, I'm just more surprised you even tried cracking a joke in the first place. You definitely didn't pass, but i'll give you some extra credit for the effort. F+."

"Shut up."

Adrian is the one to speak out loud this time, earning a few more confused looks. He takes a step forward, and another, and notices a pronounced limp. He sighs.

"If we're gonna go anywhere, we've gotta work together."

"Oh, so NOW you're in the mood for teamwork? I'm not budging unless we're going straight to the sketchiest back alley we can find."

"Jesus Christ, I cannot believe we're the same age sometimes. You act like a toddler."

Adrian has some difficulty discerning if their headache flared up because of their movement, or from his frustration alone.

"Look, can we at least just go talk to Mom?"

_"Okaaaaaay."_

 

Heaving a sigh of relief and compulsively putting a hand to their forehead (Temperature still seems high, but perhaps that's just because their hands feel freezing cold?), they begin the slow shamble to wherever the nearest payphone is. It doesn't take them too long to find one. They practically slump over the phone when they arrive, using it as an anchor. The cold metal of the phone is comforting yet horrific to the touch. Zooey takes a moment to ponder the literary parallels between them and the metal, contrasting in painful yet beautiful ways, hurtful to the touch yet--

Adrian is already dialing the phone number in. The line picks up almost immediately.

 

**GWEN:** _[frantic]_ Ayzee?

**KIMREAN:** _[tired]_ The two and only.

**GWEN:** Are you doing alright? That's a pretty lackluster joke.

**KIMREAN:** Is that really what clued you in?

**GWEN:** Well, that and the fact that you sound like you just ran a marathon and threw up along the way, but... yes. What happened? Where the hell are you two?

**KIMREAN:** I think you mean "where IN hell".

**GWEN:** Wow, that one was even worse. Why did you run away anyway? Do you need me to pick you up? What happened?

**ADRIAN:** To answer your questions--

**ZOOEY:** I need DRUUUUUUUGS.

 

Zooey's wail makes a few bystanders walk just a little bit faster.

"Ah... Withdrawal?"

Adrian slumps their body further down to sit on the pavement, bringing the phone down with him. "Yep. Can't imagine why."

"From what?"

"I'd ask Zooey to figure it out, but I don't think she can count high enough to figure out how many different drugs she's taken in the last--HEY! I can count SUPER high and I can fucking prove it! One, two, thr--" Adrian sends their free hand up to cover their mouth again, closing his eyes in frustration. Gwen takes the hint.

"Alright, I'll head over to where you are as soon as you figure yourselves out enough to let me know where that is."

 

Zooey, still busy counting, doesn't notice as Adrian double-checks the street signs to figure out what corner they're on. He lets Gwen know, slips out a "Thanks, Mom." and lets the phone fall off it's receiver when she hangs up. Standing back up enough to put it back where it's supposed to be is just way too much effort right now, he'll pass.

Despite how exhausted they are, Adrian feels a sense of comfort in the knowledge that they had someone coming to help- Someone who actually understood them. He decides, why not, and joins Zooey in counting the seconds until Gwen arrives.

_"One-hundred-and-twenty-three, One-hundred-and-twenty-four, One-hundred-and-twenty-five..."_

 


End file.
